


i: I Bet You Kiss Like Rain

by Mikkal



Series: Waiting for Time to Run Out [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: 1/3 asexual relationship, AU season 1B, Asexual Character, Asexual!Barry, Brotp: Snowbarry, Canon Temporary Character Death, Episode Fix-it, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, M/M, Multi, OT3: WestThallen, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, everyone is in the know, injuries, okay not everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-10 11:06:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3287999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikkal/pseuds/Mikkal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an inadvertent, roundabout way, Oliver brings Iris and Barry back together, stronger than ever, and Eddie is brought along for the ride. Soon the three of them form something unbreakable, but that's just the beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Decemeber

_“It makes me so happy_

_to see you smile._

_I bet it looks beautiful_

_up close.”_

            —a softer world: 936

_part i_

**30 December 2014**

            Five days after Christmas and Jitters has never been fuller. Iris thanks her lucky stars she has off today, the most trying thing on her to-do list is add a last minute class to her roster for the spring semester. Other than that, something she finished five minutes ago, all she has left to do is sit back with a coffee prepared by Catalina and the book Cisco got her for Christmas, and enjoy the sight of her boyfriend entertaining some bright eyed teenagers who recognize him from the news.

            Her phone rings and she answers it, distracted by the smile and wave Eddie sends her way. “Hello?”

            There’s no one on the other line. She pulls the phone away, annoyed, until she sees Barry’s name on the caller ID. Dread immediately curls in her stomach. They haven’t spoken since his confession on Christmas; Eddie continues to report that Barry’s been shying away from him too at work. She can’t imagine why he would call her now.

            “Barry?”

            There’s a choked noise and fast, painful breathing. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, sounding absolutely _wrecked_. “Iris, I’m so, so sorry. I have no right to call you, but—.” There’s a muffled sob that has her lurching in her seat. He whispers, “I’m so sorry” again, then trails off, the sounds of a panic attack getting louder.

            She launches to her feet, her coffee almost spilling and catching the attention of Eddie. “Barry?” There’s no answer. “Barry, where are you?”

            “H-Home,” he chokes out.

            Good, home is good. Home is ten minutes closer to Jitters than his apartment is. Eddie finally makes his way over, that pinch of concern that usually makes him look so adorable now just adds to the dread in her stomach.

            He grabs her coffee and her purse for her, slinging it over his shoulder. “What is it?” he asks quietly.

            She tilts the mouthpiece away. “It’s Barry,” she answers. “Something’s wrong.” To Barry on the other end she says: “We’re coming there.”

            “No, no,” he protests. “Don’t. I’m sorry. You don’t have to—.”

            “You’re right, I don’t have to,” she says soothingly. “But I want to. I know Eddie does too.” She glances at her boyfriend and he nods slowly, looking unsure, but worried. “We’ll be there in twenty, okay? Barry, just breathe. I’m giving you to Eddie.”

            Eddie fumbles with the phone when she hands it over, but he catches before it goes flying. “Barry?” he says cautiously. Then he goes on a rambling play-by-play of the latest episode of Agents of SHIELD.

Iris gives him a sideways glance of confusion—because Eddie doesn’t read comic books and doesn’t really have an interest in anything superhero, he’s said so himself whenever she brings up her obsession with Black Widow and Captain Marvel. Sure he retains enough of what she talks about to actually realise why she gets excited, but he doesn’t go out of his way to immerse himself in it—Eddie can only give her a helpless shrug in an answer to her unasked question.

            Well, it must be working, because Eddie pauses in his rambling to listen to Barry say something and then his shoulders loosen a bit in relief.

            Her tyres screech a little when she turns into the driveway, parking right in the middle since her dad is obviously gone. Barry wouldn’t have had to call her if her dad was home. She’s out of the car in seconds, dashing up the steps. Behind her she can hear Eddie say, “We’re here. Hold on,” but she doesn’t quite comprehend it.

            She hesitates at the base of the stairs until Eddie nudges her shoulder. “Go on,” he says. “I’ll be in the kitchen. And I’ll set up a movie for later.” He puts her arms around her and hugs her tightly. “You’ve got this,” he says quietly.

            Iris takes a deep breath and nods. She heads upstairs, bypassing every room until she gets to the bathroom; it’s the same story every time. Whenever anything gets too much for him in any way, he makes a nest in the bathroom and just _isolates_ himself. And, sure enough, when she peeks around the corner Barry is in the bathtub with three pillows and what looks like to be the comforters from her dad’s bed and his old bed.

            His long legs are pulled close to his chest, his arms wrapped around them, and his face buried in his knees. He looks impossibly small for such a tall man.

“Oh, Barry,” she says softly as she enters fully. His shoulders are shaking, but he’s not making a sound. She kneels on the ground and she reaches over to gently touch Barry’s arm. He jumps a little at the contact. “What happened?”

He mutely shakes his head, pulling his legs closer. Something drops softly to the bottom of the tub and she looks down to see his phone there. Iris grabs it, fully intending on setting it aside, but the screen catches her attention. It’s still on and brought up to recent calls. There’s her only a little while ago, but below her name is Felicity Smoak.

“Barry, what happened?” She asks again, curling her fingers around his arm. “Is Felicity okay?” The silence from him is starting to scare her. He’s so still too, the only time he’s was ever like this was during his coma. The comparisons are not comforting.

Barry nods into his knees, his breathing hitching. Iris cards her free hand through his hair, at a loss. He’s had panic attacks before—anxiety attacks, the whole shebang—mostly after he had moved in with them, but they tapered off when they both got older. He’s never not told her what was wrong before, this silence is unusual and she doesn’t know what to do.

“Eddie’s downstairs,” she tells him. “Setting up a movie and probably ordering food, the man can’t cook for more than one person to save his life. You’re more than welcomed to join us.”

Barry actually lifts his head from his arms and looks up at her, his eyes a rimmed red and his cheeks blotchy. He nods silently. “That sounds good,” he says, voice soft.

She smiles gently and says, “You know you can always talk to me. I get that you don’t want to right now. We’ve had it rough the past few days, haven’t we?” She smiles and is going to pretend it’s not as bitter as she thinks it might be. Though the look on Barry’s face and the wince proves otherwise.

She doesn’t blame him for crashing into her life. While she’s still not sure what brought his confession on (it can’t just be Eddie asking her to move in with him, she won’t accept that), she acknowledges the anguish she remembers seeing and the apologies. In reality, they’ve both been avoiding each other and she wants it to stop. She wants her best friend back, even if it’s a little awkward and she’s still trying to shift through her own convoluted feelings.

“I’d like us to, not start over exactly, but at least not stop being friends,” she says. She reaches out and curls her fingers around his arm again. “Sound good?”

Barry nods, his eyes looking suspiciously shiny. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“I know.” Iris tugs him closer and hugs him. “You don’t have to be, but I know.”

He presses his face against her shoulder, not hugging her back but still trying to get as close as possible. “I can’t tell you why I’m so upset,” he says quietly, words muffled. “It’s a secret and not mine to tell. I’m _so_ sorry.”

She shushes him, rubbing soothing circles on his back. “I don’t care about that right now,” she tells him, her heart clenching at how distraught he sounds. “All I care about is that you’re sad, and me and Eddie want to make you happy again.” He nods slightly. “Alright then. Do you want to come downstairs? Or do you want to be alone for a little longer up here?” She secretly hopes it’s the former, but that hope is dashed when he chooses staying up here longer. “Okay, hold on.”

Iris digs in her pocket to grab her ear buds and plugs them to Barry’s phone, faintly wondering where his own are. “I’ll come check on you later, okay? Eddie and I will be here as long as we can so don’t be afraid to come down.”

He gives her a wobbly smile and takes his phone from her. “Thank you.”

She hugs him one more time before heading downstairs, her heart heavy. Eddie’s in the kitchen, leaning agains the island and thumbing through his phone, and he shoves it away when he sees her.

“Where’s Barry? Is he okay?”

            She frowns and begins digging through the pantry. “He’s made a nest in the bathtub,” she says simply then glances over for his reaction. He looks confused. “He used to do that when we were kids and things got too much for him. It disappeared along with the panic attacks when we got older though.” She finally finds the Nutella and pulls it out; she swears her dad hid it back there on purpose. “What I don’t get,” she continues as she starts up a pan of milk, “is what happened to make them all come back? The isolation quirks and the attacks, they were the result of some serious PTSD.”

            _(“I guess there’s still some stuff about me you don’t know.”)_

Eddie can only shrug. “I don’t really know what to tell you. I mean, it’s been a year, but he still got hit by lightning and put in a coma. And with the amount of metahumans,” he makes a face, still unsure how the word sounds, “we see, something’s still bound to affect him. I think a combination of what’s happened the last week: the man in the yellow suit coming back into the limelight, Dr. Wells injuries, his confession to you, and whatever it is that has him so freaked out now, I think it’s hitting him all at once. I don’t know Barry as well as you do, but I think that best we can do, right at this moment, is leave him alone for a few hours, but make sure he knows we’re here for him.”

            She sighs, big and heaving. “You’re right.” She mixes the nutella in with the shimmering milk. “I’m going to take this up to him,” she says, indicating the seconds-away-from-being-hot-chocolate, “then we’ll watch a movie. You order food?”

            “Chinese,” he answers. “Enough for ten of us. I have no idea where he puts it.” He laughs slightly at that and she can’t help but grin.

            They’re about fifteen minutes into their second movie of the night (The first being _The Fellowship of the Ring_ and now they’re on _The Two Towers_ ) when Barry comes shuffling in, looking nervous and adorably ruffled. He’s wearing sweatpants and his Central City College of Sciences sweatshirt she hasn’t seen in a while, he’s been favouring the STAR Labs one for the last few months.

            “Barry!” Eddie exclaims when he sees him. “Perfect timing. We can start over if you want.”

            He glances at the screen then shakes his head. “This is fine.”

            Eddie’s smile turns from excited to gentle. “Okay then. There’s Chinese in the kitchen. Make yourself a plate and come join us.”

            When Barry shuffles into the kitchen Iris twists around to look at Eddie. “I’m terrified,” she says quietly. “He looks so _defeated_.”

            “But he’s down here,” Eddie points out. “And he’s talking to us, maybe not about what’s wrong, but he’s not isolating himself. That counts for something, right?”

            “Yeah, it does. But still…” It’s driving her crazy. Almost her entire life, she and Barry have told each other everything. But then she finds out five days ago he kept this gigantic secret from her this entire time and, now, it seems like that’s not the only thing.

            At this point she doesn’t care if she knows the secrets or not, as long as Barry acknowledges there’s some things he just doesn’t want her to know. Like the reason for his attack, she now knows there’s at least one more secret.

            “Here, scoot over.” Eddie pushes her away until she’s on the other end of the couch and Eddie’s on the opposite. “Barry’s gonna be between us.” He shrugs when Iris raises an eyebrow. “Come on, you know you want to,” he teases lightly. She cracks a smile at that. “Ha, see. Best way to get over any awkwardness is to just cuddle.”

            She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t deny it. Barry walks in at that moment, his plate piled high with food. His eyes widen at the sight on the couch.

            “Um...”

            Eddie pats the space between then. “You’re sitting here. Come on.”

            He shuffles over and gingerly sits down on the edge to balance his plate on his knees. “Are you sure? I can take the chair.” He gestures over to the corner at the thin, rickety chair they only have because of Grandma West.

            Iris snorts and tugs him deeper into the couch. “Yeah, right.”

            By the time the movie is half over, Barry’s food is gone and he’s comfortably curled up between them, his head resting on Iris’ shoulder and his bare feet tucked under Eddie’s thigh. Iris glances over to see him already asleep, his chest rising and falling gently. Her eyes drift over at Eddie, and he’s smiling at Barry with a fond expression on his face that has a warm, fuzzy feeling pooling in her chest.

            It seems they’re going to be okay.

 

**31 December 2014**

“Let me get this straight,” Captain Singh says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “After all of those rants and closed door meetings, days when you tried to convince me to allow an Anti-Streak Taskforce into my police force, headed by you, I finally say yes and now you are telling me it should be disbanded?”

            Eddie forces himself not to look like he’s being scolded by his mother, and nods. “Yes, sir. I am.”

            “What did I do to deserve this?” he mutters, probably not realising he’s loud enough to be heard. “I’m going to have to decline your request, Detective.”

            “Captain,” Eddie starts in protest. He immediately snaps his mouth shut when Singh raises a hand.

            “But we will change the name,” he says. “Detective West has brought to my attention several other persons with abilities like the Streak, Blur, Flash, _whatever_ he’s calling himself. With even more eyewitnesses and the reports to back him up, I’m inclined to believe him. You are still in charge of the Taskforce, but this will be the Anti-Metahuman Taskforce. We will not solely go after the Flash, correct?”

            “Yes, sir.”

            Singh nods. “I’m not going to ask why the change of heart.” He rubs his temples. “Just get out of my office.”

            Eddie does his best not to run; instead he casually walks out of the office with his hands tucked in his pockets. It’s only when Joe give him look does he realise that he doesn’t look casual at all. He sighs and drops into his chair; scooting himself closer to take a look at the paperwork that mysteriously appeared over the day that he was gone.

            “What was that about?” Joe asks.

            He’s silent for a few seconds before he abandons the paperwork and leans back. “I managed to convince the captain that the Flash isn’t a public menace.” He grins at his partner. “You are now looking at the lead for the semi-new Anti- _Metahuman_ Taskforce.”

            Joe blinks blankly at him for a moment. “You changed your mind?” he asks in disbelief. “You’re not going after the Flash? Just like that?”

            “Not really just like that,” Eddie quickly says. “It’s a combination of what happened at STAR Labs, that kidnapping the other day that he helped us with, and long talks with Iris and a few other people. I still don’t trust him fully,” he says, low and serious, “but I’m willing to give him a chance.”

            He’s distracted from Joe’s response by Barry entering the building, only about half an hour late for his shift. Barry sees him watching and smiles as he salutes him with his coffee, looking like he hasn’t got a care in the world despite the fact Eddie had been witness to a complete emotional breakdown last night and he hadn’t even seen all of it let alone most of it.

            Without thinking he turns back to Joe and asks, “Does he always do that?”

            Joe looks up from his own paperwork, eyebrow raised. “Does who always do what?”

            He realises who he’s talking to, he really does, but he takes a deep breath and just plows on. “Barry,” he clarifies. “Does he always brush things off with a smile and a shrug?”

            His partner slowly puts his pen down, eyeing him intently. Eddie swallows, completely sure he’s crossed a line somewhere. He’s concerned about Barry, what line is there to cross?

            “Actually, he does,” Joe answers finally. “He’s always done it.” He frowns a little at a memory.

            Eddie nods, glancing back at the stairs that lead to the crime lab. Jack Killian is shrugging on his coat as he heads outside meaning Barry is officially on the clock and he sent the morning tech assistant home. Barry Allen manages to clock hours way beyond everyone else—being one of one forensic specialists with two tech/lab assistants, but him being the best means Captain Singh is reluctant to get anyone else that could disrupt the flow—but still have time to actually have a bit of a life. It’s a bit baffling and Eddie pretends to be not jealous.

            He’s about ready to head up there, his butt already off the chair when he sees Captain Singh exit his office and bound up the stairs. Eddie rolls his chair back to see his captain on the second floor heading to the lab. He sighs, it can wait.

            “Is this because of Iris?” Joe asks suddenly. He glances at him, confused, until the older man clarifies with: “Not going after the Flash anymore. Is this about Iris?”

            He opens his mouth to answer before hesitating and closing it slowly. Yes, Iris has some to do with it. He loves the woman dearly and this is something she’s passionate about, he can’t deny her that. But it’s also the Flash himself. Eddie still doesn’t trust him too much, but the mystery saved him from the man in yellow even when he had no real reason to.

            After he was saved he could only think of the conversation he had with Iris after the Flash attacked them when the Arrow was in town. The one that the Flash had admitted that it wasn’t him, that something had influenced him. Really, with a case like that, Eddie had no choice but to believe him.

            So, yes, Iris, but also the Flash.

            And Barry. The man who believes the impossible is possible. He’s been struck hard by the younger man and it has taken all of his willpower not to show it, especially in front of Iris. Of course, she can read him like an open book.

            (“ _It’s not hard to fall in love with Barry.”_

_“But you—.”_

_“I know.”)_

Joe snorts, shaking his head. “I swear to God,” he mutters loud enough for Eddie to hear. “You kids are going to be the death of me.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” Eddie asks, confused.

His partner grins at him, still shaking his head. “You’ll figure it out,” he says mysteriously.

Eddie rolls his eyes. Great. He spots Captain Singh slipping back into his office. “I’ll be back,” he says, then gets up to head to Barry’s lab.

The forensic analyst is at his computer, rapidly moving through information. Eddie doesn’t know how he does it; he’s starting to feel a little nausea just watching the screen.

“Barry.”

He glances up, eyes wide. “Eddie,” he says, surprised and a bit breathless. He’s a little paler than normal; Eddie just chalks that up to the emotional night before. “What’s up?”

“Iris and I are going to Club 52 tonight for a pre-New Years party,” he says, leaning his hip against the desk. “It’s on the edge of Keystone. We were hoping you would join us for that before we do actual New Years at Joe’s house.”

His eyes widen even more and his jaw drops. He turns his chair away from Eddie slightly and starts fiddling with a stack of post-it notes. “Listen,” he starts out, slow and quiet. “I know Iris told you. Hell, I know she tells you everything. You don’t have to pretend to be happy about me hanging around, even if it is for Iris’ benefit. We can chalk up last night as a one time thing.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and grabs the back of his chair, swinging it around so they’re face to face. He even curls down a little so he can look Barry in the eye. “You’re right,” he says and regrets having that as the first thing said when Barry flinches. “Iris does tell me everything. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to be your friend though. Both of us want you in our lives, Barry. The sooner you believe that, the sooner we can all be happy.”

Of course, he leaves out a few important details that involve the words ‘more than friends,’ but Barry doesn’t need to know that quite so soon, he’s got enough on his plate already.

Barry smiles slightly. “I can’t say the club scene is my thing, but, sure, I’ll go with you.” He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I’m not sure what to wear?”

Eddie chuckles. “I’m sure Iris will be more than happy to help you out in that department.” He lets Barry pull away to turn back to his computer. “By the way, what is Singh want to talk to you about? I saw him head up here earlier?”

Barry shakes his eyes, keeping his eyes steadily on the fast-moving information. “Just wanted to ask me about a case,” he says casually. Almost too casually, actually, but Eddie lets it slide.

For now.

*

There are no regrets, having Eddie invite Barry to with them tonight. But she does feel a little guilty when she spots Barry sitting at the bar while the two of them are out dancing and having a good time. The club scene has never been his style, she knows this, but she’d been hoping he’d at least try.

            She twists around Eddie, keeping him close, but also keeping an eye on Barry. He hasn’t moved from that spot since they got there, the beer he’s been nursing since then too is probably warm and gross by now. Iris runs her hand up Eddie’s arms and around his neck, she tugs on him to bring him closer and down. It’s intimate and the breaths on her neck make her shiver. She glances up to look at Barry only to see him watching them.

His eyes trail over Eddie first before he’s looking at her, meeting her gaze. He flushes red and glances down at his beer, rolling the bottle between his hands. She grins when he glances up at them again through his eyelashes, looking nervous in an adorable way.

There’s one of two things she could do right now. She could go over there and pull him on the dance floor. Or she could send Eddie over to convince him to come dancing with them.

Barry always did better with a little encouragement, and she knows that was never a ‘Oh, Iris asked me to do it so I’ll try because I’m [apparently] in love with her,’ but more of a ‘I’m not to sure about this, but it seems like fun. Oh, this random person who I might or might not know wants to me try. Okay.’ She distinctly remembers several times classmates managing to convince him to do a talent show that she had no idea he’d be interested in and another time when one of their few friends convinced him to try out for soccer (he made the team).

Iris decides to send Eddie, she likes seeing two of the most important men in her life together and enjoying each other’s company. And if this can lead to more, well, she’s not going to be upset.

Eddie raises an eyebrow at her. “You’re planning something,” he shouts over the music. “What is it?”

She grins and presses a quick kiss on his lips, staying close to say, “You should go ask Barry to dance. He looks lonely.”

He hesitates for a split second before dutifully pulling away and sliding through the crowd to Barry’s little spot. She watches Eddie lay it on thick, smiling when Barry just blushes even darker. Eddie grabs his hand and tugs him off his seat, obviously saying something encouraging that Barry’s trying to protest until her boyfriend presses close and whispers something in his ear. Barry’s body goes curiously relaxed, though his face is still a deep red.

But they’re both heading her way, so she finds herself not caring about what Eddie said to him.

            She grabs his arms when they get close enough and tugs him over so they’re pressed front to front, she throws one arm over his shoulder and the other reaches around him to where Eddie is pressed against his back. “Hey there, stranger.”

            Barry grins sheepishly at her. “You know I can’t really dance.”

            “Just like you can’t really sing either?” she asks teasingly. She laughs when he rolls his eyes. They both know he can sing with the best of them and while his dancing isn’t too great, it’s not bad either. “Come on, just sway with the music.”

He still looks a little unsure so she starts dancing, losing herself to the music. Both her arms end up eventually wrapped around his neck, dragging him down slightly so their faces are closer together. She feels Eddie’s fingers brush her stomach and she knows he has his arms wrapped around Barry’s waist.

It’s when Barry starts moving as well that she finally dares to glance at him. She lets a brilliant grin stretch out when she sees his eyes closed, one hand holding Eddie closer from behind—the other hand is on her hip—and his head is tilted back with Eddie murmuring something in his ear.

She has to take a deep breath at the sight. God, they’re just so beautiful separately, but together? It transcends words all together. The fire that sprang up starts to ebb, though, when she remembers childhood confessions and tears from her best friend.

Iris lets her head fall back. She doesn’t care, at all. She now knows she wants Eddie _and_ Barry in her life, just as they are. There’s no changing them, especially since changing it would be cruel and get rid of a fundamental part of what makes Barry, well, _Barry._

She smiles. No. This is perfect.


	2. January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episode: Revenge of the Rouges
> 
> (This is the chapter that delves more into sexualities, specifically Barry's, but Iris' and Eddie's as well.)
> 
> And, hey! there's a surprise character.

**6 January 2015**

            Eddie walks into Barry’s lab just as Joe is walking out. The older man gives him a stern look and says, “You better be taking him to lunch.”

            He sighs. “How long has he been up here?”

            Joe glances at his watch. “Close to ten hours. He’s been surviving on a sandwich he brought with him and vending machine food. Singh just gave him a cold case to work on since we’ve been slow for a bit, but it’s not the most important thing right now.”

            “Where’s Palmer?” Eddie asks. Steve Palmer’s shift started two hours ago. The techs have a lot of free range compared to a few other departments (i.e. all other departments), but Barry always clocked in enough hours to have a good portion of his shift overlap with a tech’s.

            Joe shrugs. “That kid is getting more and more unreliable by the minute.” He claps Eddie on the shoulder. “Singh gave permission for us to be missing our forensic analyst for an hour or two, so have at it.”

            “Good,” he says. “Iris plans on treating both of us.” He steadily ignores the pointed look Joe shoots his way.

Instead, he continues into the lab where Barry is sitting cross-legged on the floor with the case file spread out around him. He’s got an elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand, staring at the papers with a completive look. He looks soft in the light filtering though the windows, soft and warm and a little tired. Okay, a lot tired. There’re light bags under his eyes and he’s still pretty pale.

Barry doesn’t even acknowledge him when he walks closer. Eddie sighs fondly and taps the top younger man’s head, startling him into jerking away and messing up some of the order he had going on.

“Eddie! What the hell?”

He chuckles. “Find anything interesting?” He runs a hand through Barry’s hair, half-afraid he’ll pull away from unwanted touch, but he leans closer with a low hum, closing his eyes. Wow, he must be _exhausted._

“Nothing of use,” he answers. “Just bits and pieces that don’t tie in together.” He shrugs. “The case is a couple decades old and obscure, it wasn’t a high priority then.”

Eddie runs his hand through his hair one more time before nudging him with his knee. “Well, leave it for a little bit. Iris wants lunch at Owen’s and she’s treating both of us.”

“Steve’s not here yet,” Barry protests even as he gathers all the papers and stuffs them gently into their file. “I can’t leave until he gets here.”

“Singh said it was okay. Palmer should be here any minute, once he is he’ll get a talking to considering he’s late even by _your_ standards.” He laughs when Barry punches him in the arm. “Then he’ll get sent up here. You go to lunch, you come back, update him, then you can go _home_ and _sleep.”_

“Hmm, that does sound good.” He zips up both his laptop and the cold case into his bag and slings it over his shoulder. “And Iris is paying. I’m sold, Detective Thawne. Lead the way.”

Eddie laughs again and loops his arm through his. “Right this way, Mr. Allen.”

*

            Iris sighs and leans back, watching with amusement as Barry and Eddie continue to play a game of tic-tac-toe in the notebook Eddie always carries around in his jacket. Usually it’s only for things related to work, but this seems like a better use for it.

            “Hey, ever try cryptograms?” Eddie shakes his head and Barry’s mouth starts going a mile a minute, explaining the history and logistics of ‘cryptograms’ as he flips a page and starts writing one out.

            Upside down she can see him writing: Subject: Beautiful. Example: Flowers. Of course, the first one is IRIS, which leaves the next one with only one letter (_, _, _, i, _.), and the rest of the five in similar states of incompleteness. Eddie glances up and meets her smile at how blatant Barry’s being, and because he’s so distracted by explaining cryptograms still he doesn’t even blush and/or backtrack.

            Barry had looked so tired when she met them outside the CCPD. She hates seeing him so worn and she really hopes it was because of work and not because of whatever secrets he’s been keeping. Work is something she knows and can help him with, the secrets not so much.

            But now he looks a little better, more color to his face and he’s been participating remarkably well in their conversations.

            “Barry? _Barry Allen?”_

Barry jumps at the call of his name and twists around in the seat. Iris follows his eye line to see a handsome man grinning like he’s seen the best thing in the world. His smile turns cocky when Barry leaps to his feet with a “Hal!” and he’s got swagger in his step when he comes closer to give Barry a bro hug. Iris can’t help but peg him as a frat boy, she’s had many experiences with those types, and the bomber jacket doesn’t help with the image.

“What are you doing in Central City?” Barry asks.

“My younger brother, James, lives up here with his wife,” the stranger ‘Hal’ explains. “I thought I’d visit during my free time.” He jerks his chin to where Iris and Eddie are still sitting. “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Allen?”

Barry rolls his eyes. “Since when do you have any problems showing off?” He earns a nudge in the side with an elbow for that and he shoves Hal. “Hal, this is Iris West and Eddie Thawne. Iris, Eddie, this weirdo is Hal Jordan from Coast City.”

Hal blinks in surprise. “Iris West?” He stares at her for a minute before grinning and turning to Barry. “Iris, huh?”

“I _will_ hurt you,” Barry threatens. “And _smile_ while doing it.”

“Aww, come on, Strawberry.”

“How’s Carol doing?”

            “Low blow.”

            “You started it.”

Iris finds herself reevaluating her knee-jerk assumption of Hal being just another stereotypical frat boy (though he was probably one at one point) at the sight of him and Barry interacting like old childhood friends. She wonders faintly when they met up and how they got so close, but she holds back the questions, especially when Hal’s name is called from the other side of the restaurant.

Hal snatches Barry’s phone off the table and types in a few things. “I’m in the Gem Cities for a few day, call me and we’ll hang out.” He sets the phone back down, hugs Barry one more time, and heads to his family with a wave toward Iris and Eddie. “It was nice meeting you, Iris! And Eddie.”

            Barry’s groaning as he sits back down. “Ignore him,” he says. “It’s what most of us do.”

            “How on Earth did you meet a guy like that?” Eddie asks, chuckling.

            “I did some Continuing Education over in Coast City the fall before last,” Barry explains. In other words, a few months before his coma. Now that she thinks about it, she remembers him talking about a guy he met during his CE. “He’s a test pilot for Ferris Aircraft and there was some sort of a meeting going on at the hotel I was staying in. I haven’t talked to him since I first woke up,” he muses that last part.

            Iris and Eddie exchange looks, but neither of them say anything. She’s just glad they’ve actually talked since Barry’s coma, there were a lot of things happening after he woke up and a few people got left behind in the chaos.

            Eddie taps the notebook. “How about you finish showing me the cryptogram and then we’ll head back to the station?”

            Barry nods his head eagerly and starts going through it with Eddie, Iris chiming in every now and then with a letter. They’re still not done when Barry’s phone rings with a message alert. He makes a face at whatever’s there and stuffs his phone in his pocket.

            “Steve finally showed up,” he says. “Singh wants to see me before I give him a rundown of what’s happened today.” He stands and slings his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll see you guys later.” He holds up a hand when Eddie starts to get up. “It’s fine. Enjoy your lunch break a little longer. I can walk across the street by myself like a big kid, promise.” He gives them a cheeky grin then dashes off.

            She stares at the exit. “I’m not entirely sure when he got so fast,” she tells Eddie. “He said he picked up jogging after he woke up, but damn.” She shakes her head, fast indeed.

            “He does have a lot of energy,” Eddie says, slightly distracted by the cryptogram they haven’t finish. “Nervous energy, I’d say. We should all go jogging some time. You have been saying you wanted to pick it…up…again…Oh”

            “What? What is it?”

            He looks up, grinning and the tips of his ears turning red. “I finished all the cryptograms. Look what he put the second one as.” He flips the notebook around and pushes it closer to her.

            The second cryptogram ended up reading as EDDIE.

           

**15 January 2015**

            Her hands are still shaking and her heart is still beating so fast she feels breathless. Logically, she knows it’s just adrenaline from the harrowing experience that is Mick Rory, but her emotional side, on the other hand, is trying to tell her _I almost_ died _. Oh God,_ _Barry’s dead. Barry’s dead in fire and ice and it’s all my fault because I was too stupid to run away properly._ Of course, everyone who’s been trying to tell her otherwise are just liars hiding the truth from her.

            Walking into STAR Labs and seeing Barry on the gurney, sitting and smiling, makes her want to burst into semi-hysterical tears at the sight. (Of course, not-so-hysterical considering the circumstances.)

“ _Caitlin_.” Warm arms wrap around her, tugging her close. She presses her face against his shoulder and tries not to make a disgusting mess on his bare skin. “Are you okay?” He doesn’t pull away to look at her, but the tensing of his whole body tells her he wants to. “They didn’t hurt you?”

            She shakes her head. “No,” she says, voice muffled. “Rory scared me and probably would have hurt me, but Snart stopped him before he could.”

            “I’m sorry I didn’t come to you after I finished with them,” he says, sounding a bit off.

Hearing that tone makes the tears slow and stop, and she pulls away to get a good look at him. There are cuts on his face, shallow now, which meant they were significantly deeper only an hour before, and there are blotches of pale frostbite and burns on his chest. She turns him around to push him back to the gurney when she sees the frostbite on his shoulder too.

“Damnit, Barry.”

He gives her a sheepish grin. “Sorry?”

            “He has a few broken ribs as well,” Dr. Wells offers up. He grins when Barry groans.

            “What is _wrong_ with you?” The adrenaline that had drained away while she was hugging Barry comes back in full force in righteous fury. How _dare_ he put himself in even more danger. “One of those ribs could’ve shifted before you healed and puncture your lung! What were you thinking?”

            “I’m sorry, okay?” He sits down gingerly back on the gurney, wincing and his face paling dramatically. “There was a whole bunch going on. I feel fine anyway.” He waves a hand dismissively, but his nonchalant attitude is ruined by him hissing in pain.

            “Adrenaline,” Caitlin says. “I know it well.”

            She loses herself in x-rays and MRIs (He crashed into a wall of ice at high speed, no matter how good Cisco’s helmet is she can never be too careful). She has to keep Barry from leaving several times, his worry for his co-workers and Iris—really, what was she doing there?—is endearing, most of the time.

            The hilarious part is, after an hour of tests, the scratches on his face are healed and he’s half asleep. She braces his side when he starts listing, his body wanting to be horizontal. He startles when he feels her touch him, jerking up and back a little and only relaxing when he realizes it’s her.

            “Go home,” she says gently. “Get some sleep.”

            He shakes his head. “Apartment flooded,” he says. “This morning. The toddler in the room above me got to the bathtub unsupervised. There aren’t any empty flats to put me or the two other tenants who suddenly found themselves reenacting the Great Flood without an Ark.”

            Caitlin rolls her eyes. “And you happen to know three people who absolutely love you and would be more than happy to have you room with them.”

            “Only three?” He pouts.

            “Okay, okay. Five.” She scoffs at his childish grin. “My suggestion? Call Eddie and Iris.”

            He’s shaking his vehemently at that. “No way,” he says. “That goes beyond dinner and lunches. _Way_ beyond.”

            “Too late,” Cisco calls out, waving Barry’s mobile in the air. “Already sent Iris a text. She’s wondering why you didn’t ask sooner and that ‘of course you can stay with me and Eddie, do you even have to ask?’” He grins, unrepentant.

            Barry snatches the phone out of his hand in the blink of an eye, reading over the two-text conversation with a critical eye. He sighs. “You didn’t make me sound too desperate,” he says. “You get to live…for now.”

            Cisco gives a flourished bow. “One of my specialties.”

            She wanders over to give him a small shove. “Now _go_. Eat. Sleep. Doctor’s orders.” She gives him a pointed look when he opens his mouth to say _something_ , but she can already guess what it is. “Cisco is driving me home and we’re going to spend a few hours eating take-out and watching _Ghostbusters._ Which he says is surprisingly relevant this time around.”

            Barry bursts out laughing that and fist-bumps Cisco. He pulls on his standard STAR Labs sweatshirt. “Okay, okay. I see I’ve been outmaneuvered. I’ll be in some time tomorrow for a follow up. Thank you, Caitlin.” He kisses her on the cheek, waves good-bye to Cisco and Doctor Wells, then he’s out in a flash.

            Which, they really need to stop using that phrase; it’s getting more and more ridiculous every time.

            She sighs and takes the seat Barry abandoned. Her whole body hurts, sore from being so stiff for so long. Stiff in fear that any wrong move could set off a bomb, or any wrong word could set off Mick Rory. She covers her face and takes a deep breath.

            “Caitlin,” Dr. Wells says quietly, the whirl of his chair coming closer. “Are you okay?”

            She looks up and smiles slightly. “Yes,” she answers. “I’m just still a little freaked out.”

            “I am here, if you need to talk.”

            “Thank you,” she says, pushing as much sincerity into her expression as possible. She mostly just wants to curl up on her couch and watch a ridiculous move with Cisco. She rolls her shoulders and stands up. Speaking of… “Cisco, you ready?”

            His head peeks out from where they store Barry’s suit out of sight. “No, but yeah.” He’s pouting when he walks into the control room. “You know, it’s a good thing I can fix that or I’d be having words with our superhero.”

_*_

            “Where is he going to sleep?” Iris wonders out loud, pacing the living room’s floor. Eddie _does_ live in Brookfield Heights just on the edge of City Central, so even if they do have an extra body in the apartment they’re not going to be _too_ packed, but the one thing this place doesn’t have is a spare room.

            “My couch is not the worst thing in the world,” Eddie points out from where he’s sprawled on the floor in the way of Iris’ pacing. “I’ve slept on it a few times without getting a crick in the neck or a sore back. I’m sure Barry will be okay.”

            She runs her hands down her face and takes a deep breath. “Okay, okay. Breathe, Iris.” She takes one more circuit around the coffee table before lying on the floor next to him, curling against his side and mindful of his injured arm. “How do you feel?” she asks.

            “Much better,” he assures her. “The paramedic says that it should heal up nicely in a few days and she sees no complications in the future. It’s mostly bruising from the force of the guns against the shield.”

            “That’s good.” She pushes herself up so they’re face to face, and brushes some hair from his forehead and trails her fingers across his cheek. “Do you want a ice pack? Are your pain killers still working?”

            He smiles and kisses her softly. “I’m _fine_.” He wraps his good arm around her and yanks her over, startling a squeal of laughter from her.

            Her face hurts from laughing so hard by the time he’s got her back against the ground and he’s hovering over her, his arm braced above her head and his knee propped between her legs. He leans down and presses another kiss to her lips, trailing down her cheek until he’s sucking a hickey on her neck until he deems it perfect then he goes to her collar bone that’s peeking from behind the V of her shirt.

            Iris muffles a moan and shoves his shoulder. “Eddie,” she says. “Not now. Barry could be here any minute.” Unfortunately, that just seems to encourage him. She rolls her eyes. “If this is some ploy to get Barry to walk in, see us, then have sex with you or me or both of us, it’s not going to work.”

She hesitates for a split second, completely unsure if she should reveal this to him. Yes, she’s told him so many other things pertaining to Barry, things that were not hers to tell to be honest, but this...this is important. This is about Barry and _his_ comfort, not theirs. “He’s not going to sleep with us,” she blurts out before she can finish her inner debate. “Even if we do get together, he won’t have sex.”

            Eddie freezes and pulls away from her, looking adorably confused. “What do you mean?”

            Iris takes a deep breath, faintly wondering why _she’s_ so nervous about this. “Barry’s asexual,” she tells him in a rush, then specifics with, “ _Biromantic_ asexual. It’s like how I’m pan and you’re bi. He has no problems with other people having sex, but him having sex? No can do.”

            Eddie presses his lips together and, for a moment, she fears the worst, until he says: “Okay.” Simple, just like that. She sighs in relief. “One question.”

            She raises an eyebrow. “Shoot.”

            He wiggles his nose and squares his shoulders. “Is he sex repulsed or does he just not experience sexual attraction?”

            “…You know, I never thought to ask that,” she says. “Why does it matter though?”

            He shakes his head. “Well, if he’s repulsed then we can make sure we don’t do anything overt. If he’s not sexually attracted to anyone then it will be easier to keep things in the comfort zone.” He eyes her shocked expression. “What? Did you think I would abandon the idea of a relationship because he doesn’t do sex?”

            “No, no, no,” she says quickly. “I promise. It’s just an automatic thing now, being suspicious. There aren’t that many people he’s told, especially since a few disastrous relationships in high school and undergrad. He’s been mum about it since his first year.”

            “Well, I promise,” he says, freeing a piece of her hair caught in her eyelashes. “I promise I won’t bring it up until he mentions it. You _know_ I want him to be a part of our lives as much as you do, and if not sleeping with him is one of the stipulations of that then I’m beyond okay with it.”

            “Well, good.” She leans up and kisses him, relishing the moment before Barry gets here.

She knows it’s going to be awkward for the first few hours (and that’s an ‘at least’ timeframe right there) and she still has to get Eddie to show her where he keeps his spare sheets, probably in the small laundry room that’s an offset to his kitchen.

“Oh crap! The kitchen!” Iris shoves Eddie off of her and skids into the kitchen where Barry’s birthday present from her lays half wrapped. She’d been in the middle of it when Barry had texted her. She gathers everything up and hides it in their bedroom, it’s going to be a while before Barry goes in there.

Eddie’s leaning on doorframe as he laughs silently at her running around frantically. “You’re adorable,” he tells her with a smirk.

She smacks his shoulder. “You shut it,” she orders with a threatening finger pointed at his chest. “I know where you live.”

“Oh, do you now?”

_knock. knock. knock._

“The guest of honor has arrived, madam.”

Iris answers the door with a wide smile, greeting the sheepish Barry with an enthusiastic, “Hey, Barry, come in!”

            He does, his shoulders curled in and his neck pink. “Thank you so much for letting me stay the night, Iris, Eddie,” he says. He’s got a duffle bag in hand and a book bag slung over his shoulder. “I never got the chance to talk to Joe so, yeah, thanks.”

            “It’s no problem,” Eddie says, taking the duffle from him. “And it’s not just for the night. You’re more than welcomed to stay until your apartment is a little less damp.”

            Barry laughs at that. “Thanks.” He glances around the living room. “Nice place. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a Brookfield Heights apartment. It’s a lot bigger than I thought it’d be.”

            Iris takes that chance to jump in with, “Big, but still no room for a spare room.” She gestures to the couch. “I hope you don’t mind.”

            He sets his book bag next to the coffee table and collapses back onto the couch, wincing slightly. “I like it, it’s very soft.”

            “I know, right?” Eddie says with a pointed look toward her on his way into the kitchen, having set the duffle on the armchair in the corner. “I’ll be right back.”

She rolls her eyes in response, smiling slightly. “Are you okay?” she asks, not willing to let the wince she saw go un-talked about.

He waves a hand dismissively. “Yeah, I ended up running into a table when I was helping Mrs. Iden take a box of her stuff to her car.”

“You want an ice pack? Painkillers?” she asks, ignoring the sweep of déjà vu.

“I’m fine, but thank you.” He gives her a bright smile and she relaxes a little.

Eddie comes back with a stack of blankets and two pillows. “Wanna pop in a movie? The night is young.” He sets those on the armchair as well and takes a seat next to Iris, Barry on her other side.

“Oh! Oh! _Inception_ ,” Iris picks.

He groans. “No, absolutely not. You only like that movie because I get a headache every time we watch it.”

She grins, kissing his cheek. “Aw, poor baby. If you want, me and Barry can help explain it. Right, Bear?”

Barry’s laughing, but he manages to nod and say: “Don’t worry, Eddie, I’ll protect you from the dream within a dream within a dream. Let’s watch _The Losers_ instead.”

Eddie slaps the arm of the couch. “Yes! I vote that. Two against one.”

Iris pouts dramatically as Eddie sets up the movie (not that she’s totally complaining, a comedy/action movie starring Chris Evans, Idris Elba, Jeffery Dean Morgan, and Zoe Saldana? What’s not to like?). Barry swings his arm over the back of the couch, his fingers brushing her shoulders.

She glances at him out of the corner of her eye to see him leaning closer until he’s basically cuddled against her. She pulls up her legs and curls against his side, resting her head on him. She catches Eddie’s eye when he comes back to the couch and he just grins at her before he takes up the rest of the space by awkwardly sprawling out and using her legs as a pillow.

All three of them end up falling asleep right there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preview:
> 
> That’s when the Flash rolls over and shoves himself to his feet, stumbling to the side before righting himself. “Detective Thawne,” he says, voice absent of any reverberations. “Captain Singh.” He takes a step toward them again, stumbling until Eddie meets him halfway and grabs him by the shoulders. “I’m not healing,” he whispers wonderingly, child-like and oh-so-wrong.  
> 
> 
> This close Eddie can see the burst capillaries in his eyes and the forming bruises on his exposed skin indicating vessels broken by sonic waves. There’s blood dripping from his nose and mouth, and if he could see the man’s ears Eddie would bet blood would be dripping from there too.  
> 
> 
> His face isn’t blurred and Eddie is trying very hard to ignore the familiarity he sees behind the mask. Instead he focuses on the dread curling in his stomach at the though the Flash is too injured and tired to even bother hiding.
> 
> (Episode: The Sound and the Fury)


	3. February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter had a surprise character.  
> This one has a surprise confrontation with a known character that I didn't intend on writing but ended up writing.
> 
> I'm thinking about doing a companion series of oneshots/missing moments.
> 
> And, yes, you've read that right, one chapter left after this. This story was relationship building and world building. The _real ___fun begins next time.
> 
> Longest chapter, yay!

**10 February 2015**

            Iris stands back and admires her handiwork. The living room is all set up for a movie night, except one detail is decidedly different: the jewelry box sitting right in the middle of the coffee table. She’d been tempted to reuse the one Eddie had given her when he asked her to move in, but she opted to use the box her mother’s ring had been in when Barry gave it to her for Christmas.

            The situation probably doesn’t call for such lengths, it’s not like she is asking Barry to move in with them (yet!), but he’s been staying at their place more often than not and Eddie finally got fed up with constantly trying to convince that he can stay and that he’s not being a bother. Tonight they were giving him a key and hopefully everything else will fall into place.

            She checks the time once more, frowning when she sees it’s an hour and a half after Barry was suppose to get off work.

            “He still not here?” Eddie asks, walking in from the kitchen. He wraps his arms around her waist and rests his chin on her shoulder. “That’s weird. He said he’d late by only half an hour.”

            “I know, I hope nothing bad happened.” Though, her dad would’ve called if something did. Like lightning striking twice.

            There’s a single knock on the door and Iris detangles herself to go answer. Odd that Barry would only knock once, maybe something is wrong?

            She opens to the door to see Oliver Queen standing there, looking completely awkward and in over his head.

            “Hi,” he says. “I was told I could find Barry here?”

            She’s kind of struck silent by the fact that _Oliver Queen is standing right in front of her_. Iris really hopes the shock she feels isn’t so obvious in her expression as she thinks it is, which would be really embarrassing. (It is.) She clears her throat and smiles. “Unfortunately, he’s still at work. He should be here in just a few minutes, though.” _Hopefully._ “Come in.”

            She gets an awkward smile in response and a “Thank you” as he walks in.

            Eddie glances from him to her, looking confused. “Hey, Oliver. What are you doing in Central City?”

            The three of them didn’t have much interaction when Oliver Queen was in town—right about the time people were getting mind whammed into having rage feasts and the Flash took a 180 in personality—but they did talk a few times. Iris is still surprised that Barry knows _Oliver Queen._

“It’s something between Barry and me,” Oliver answers. “If you don’t mind.”

            Eddie raises his hands almost defensively. “No problem, man.”

            They sit there awkwardly for about ten minutes. Iris is pretty sure she didn’t want to constantly associate ‘awkward’ with Oliver Queen, but that seems to be out of her control. She can’t think of why the celebrity is here, at their home, at this time of night, or why he looks so nervous about being here himself, but none of it can be good.

            The tension in the room skyrockets when there’s a series of knocks at the door and she knows it’s Barry this time around. She sees Oliver gulp as she gets up to answer the door.

            He frowns at the expression he sees on her face. “What’s wrong? Did Eddie make the blender explode again?”

            Normally she’d laugh at the memory, but this time she just shakes her head. “You have a visitor.”

            Barry walks into the apartment past her, not seeing who’s sitting on the couch due to his attention on her. “You okay?”

            She waves away his concern. “Yes, just…”

            That’s when he glances over to the living room and freezes. “…Oliver.”

            Oliver gets to his feet, stuffing his hands in his pocket. “Barry.”

            Barry swallows. “When did you…get back?”

            “Two weeks ago,” he answers quietly.

            He takes a step further into the apartment. “And I’m just now finding out about this?” Iris is startled to hear anger in his voice—no, not anger. That’s pure, unadulterated _fury._

            “Barry,” Oliver tries, putting to hands out as if trying to placate him. “I—.”

            “ _No_ , Oliver. You don’t get to defend yourself right now. Fuck you,” he spits out. Iris covers her mouth in shock, moving to Eddie who looks just as taken aback at this side of Barry. “I get to find out about all of this from _Felicity?_ We hung out the day before you left! You didn’t even hint that you were going to see that, that _Demon_.”

            “Barry, I couldn’t—Listen, I _couldn’t tell you.”_

            He lets out a harsh laugh that sounds so unlike him. “You told everyone else.” He ticks up a finger as he lists names. “Felicity. Dig. Roy. Laurel. _Malcolm._ Everyone who knows, you told. Everyone but _me_. Did I not deserve it? Aren’t we friends? If you say ‘yes, of course’ I will hurt you. I’m not afraid to hurt you, Oliver. This? This is not what friends do to each other. Oliver, you were _de_ —“ he cuts himself off viciously then takes a deep breath. “You were _gone_ and I didn’t even know you went up to Nanda Parbat. I knew _nothing.”_

            Oliver looks like he just got smacked, eyes wide and suspiciously shiny. Iris really hopes he doesn’t cry, she’s not entirely sure what to do with a practical stranger crying in their apartment at something Barry said. Speaking of Barry, he looks close to tears as well, his hands are shaking and he keeps swallowing as if willing himself not to cry. She’s seen that action more than a dozen times. It’s also a precursor to an anxiety attack.

            “Barry,” Oliver says softly. “We _are_ friends.”

            “Get out,” Barry whispers, squeezing his eyes shut.

            “Barry, please—.”

            “ _GET OUT!”_

            Oliver leaves without another word, just a pained expression on his face. Barry slams the door after him, leaning against it and sliding down. He hugs his legs close to his body and buries his face in his knees, his shoulders shaking and chest rattling with the force of his crying.

            Iris drops to her knees and hugs him. “Oh, Barry.” She has no idea what’s going on, but this is angriest she’s ever seen him, angriest and _hurt_. Whatever happened with Oliver had to have been something huge.

            There’s movement and she glances up to see Eddie sit at his other side, expression somber. He wraps an arm around his shoulders and holds him close. Barry doesn’t even acknowledge either of them, just stays curled up in a little ball.

            That is, until his phone starts ringing. He fishes it out automatically, trained by years of being on the police force, and makes a sound of congested disgust before tossing it away and pressing his face against his knees again.

            She can hear him whispering “ _merde, merde, merde_ ,” over and over again, is voice cracking and breaking from his sobs. Her heart breaks at the French, his mother loved to travel, France had always been her favourite, and by the time she had Barry she’d been to France about once every two years since she was eight. Even after Barry was born they went every two years again, starting when he was two. He hasn’t been back since she died, despite the many opportunities.

Hearing him break out the French makes her remember the better times, when he put a no-good French ‘teacher’ to shame in middle school and when he defended someone from a bully by confusing the hell out of that bully.

His phone rings again and Iris reaches for it. She stares at the name ‘Felicity Smoak’ until it rings out then it beeps with a voicemail alert. The recent calls show Oliver calling the first time until Felicity tried. The mobile lights up again with ‘Roy.’

            As soon as the call rings out for whoever Roy is, Felicity is calling again and with it comes a text from ‘Dig’ telling Barry to ‘answer the damn phone.’ She sighs and picks up Felicity’s call.

            “Barry!”

            “It’s Iris actually.”

            “Oh…Hey, Iris.” She sounds meek and nervous, completely different than how she knows her. Iris knows her as, basically, a female version of Barry: an adorkable nerd who babbles about what they love.

            Iris pinches the bridge of her nose. “Hold on a second,” she says, just knowing this is going to be one of those conversations. “Do _not_ hang up.” She turns her attention to Eddie, who mumbling nonsense words to Barry’s hair, his cheek pressed to the crown of his head, all in an attempt to comfort him. “You should go show him the surprise in the fridge,” she suggests quietly.

            Barry shakes his head, cutting off any attempts for Eddie to get him moving, and starts to slowly untangle himself.

            “No, you don’t have to. I should probably head by to my apartment,” he says, voice low and hoarse. “You guys don’t need to deal with…this.” He flaps his hand around meaninglessly.

            And there goes the isolationism. As much as she wants to give him his space like he wants, this is not one of those times where it’ll help. His use right now is a friend, a thought to be very close friend, seemingly betraying him and/or shoving him to the side. If she lets him go to his apartment— _alone—_ then it’s just going to make it worse whether he realises it or not.

            Luckily Eddie stops him with a soft touch on his arm and, “Chocolate cheesecake.” He grins. “Who can say no to cheesecake?”

            Barry can’t, which is one of the reasons why they made it—yes, ‘made.’ He smiles a small smile, he’s stopped crying, but he still looks to be teetering on the edge and his breathing is uneven. She seriously hopes he’s not ring to hold back, it never ends well emotionally, mentally, or physically when he holds back.

            “Come on,” Eddie urges. She cheers internally when Barry nods and follows him into the kitchen, shuffling and quiet.

            Iris watches them go until they disappear around the wall then she turns back to Barry’s phone, relieved to see Felicity is still on the line. “So what’s going on?” There’s silence. “I know. I know there’s secret I’m not suppose to know about. Whatever. I don’t really care about that.”

            “…you don’t?”

            She rolls her eyes. “Obviously I do, but right now I care that Barry just had a breakdown after yelling at who I assume was a close friend. And Oliver didn’t look to good either.” She pauses. “How is he?”

            Felicity takes a breath. “Better than Barry probably. I don’t think he was expecting the reaction he got.”

            “I don’t even know what’s happening and that’s not the reaction I was expecting.” She wanders past the kitchen, glancing over to see a grinning Barry trying to shove an overfilled fork into Eddie’s mouth. A knot in her chest loosens and she smiles as she heads into the bedroom. “Who needs to fix this?”

            “Barry,” Felicity says immediately. Iris feels a swell of anger build before she can continue. “Only because Oliver is too stubborn and emotionally suppressed to even know how to start.”

            She chuckles, deflating. “Fair enough.” She hums as she pulls out four more pillows from the closet and tosses them on the bed. “Who’s in the wrong? Is Barry wrong to be upset? Is Oliver right for not telling him whatever?”

            Felicity’s quiet for a long moment. “Oliver told me what he was doing. To be honest, and I feel horrible for this, Barry never crossed my mind.”

            “Even they hung out the day before he left?”

            “Even then.” Wow, she can hear the regret in her voice. “So much was happening. I just…I was so caught up in him I didn’t think.” Which, okay, if whatever Oliver did was as bad as it’s sounding then she can understand that. “So, no. Barry’s not in the wrong to be angry. I would be angry too if I was in his place. Oliver should have told him. I don’t know why he didn’t, but I don’t know what’s going on in his mind so I can’t speak for him…”

            “Felicity.” The other woman sounds so distraught, either from a past thing—the thing with Oliver—or a current thing. “Is Oliver okay?” She hopes Felicity can tell she doesn’t mean okay about Barry, but okay for what happened.

            “I don’t know. I _think_ so. I _hope_ so.”

            Iris sighs. That’s going to be her thing now: sighing. She can feel it. “Me and Eddie, we’ll try to talk Barry around tonight. Call Oliver, tell him Gabriel next door _will_ call the cops on him if he tries to camp out in the hallway.”

            “Okay. Okay.” The relief is evident. “Thank you, Iris.”

            “Don’t thank me yet,” she warns. “Barry very rarely gets this angry and when he does it’s hard to get him to calm down. I don’t know how long it’ll take.”

            “Thank you anyway. Thank you for picking up.” Her voice fades a little as if she’s about ready to say goodbye and hang up, until there’s a murmur in the background and she comes surging back. “Oh! Can you tell Barry that Roy is going to call him tomorrow night and that he should pick up because it has nothing to do with Oliver but a thing they talked about a while ago?”

            “Uh, sure thing,” she says, slightly amused. She says goodbye and they hang up.

            Iris takes a seat on the bed, pressing the heel of her palm to her eyes. This is not how she wanted the night to go. She wanted to have dinner and desert with her two favourite people, give Barry his key, watch a movie then go to bed. She wanted this night to be the night they manage to coax Barry into sleeping with them. Of course, the complete and original definition of the word sleep because this is _Barry_ we’re talking about.

            Not the point, the point is: this night had been planned out to be fantastic and now there’s a very good chance they won’t be able to pick up from this setback.

            She stands back up, shaking off the stifling feelings of helplessness. This is one of the reasons why she doesn’t like secrets, if something bad happens she can’t help as much as she should.

            Her boys are still in the kitchen, a good portion of the cheesecake gone. While Eddie’s probably full, Barry will probably eat the Chinese they ordered—it might be cold now, unfortunately. Barry’s shed his jacket and his sleeves are rolled up, showing the off-coloured patches of old, almost faded scars from high school and the birthday present Iris gave him: a leather bracelet with a metal plate that has the sound wave of his name being said by both Eddie and Iris etched on it.

            “So!” She claps her hands, startling them both. She grins at them when they whirl around. “Who wants Chinese?”

Eddie groans dramatically. “No, no more food.”

Barry doesn’t say anything, just picks at the cheesecake.

“Well, movie time and Chinese for me and Barry,” she says. “And!” Iris grabs Barry’s arm and pulls him gently into the living room. “We have a surprise for you.”

His face is pale and his eyes are rimmed red, but there’s a spark in his eyes that makes Iris very, _very_ happy. She knew letting him go off alone would just lead to something worse, and hopefully this reaction means that, for once, they were able to stave off the worst of his attack.

She pushes him onto the couch and curls up next to him. Eddie grabs the box from the table and sits on his other side.

“First thing,” Eddie says. “One, no more sleeping on the couch. You spend most of your nights here and our bed is big enough for three.”

Barry’s whole body goes still, his eyes wide and his jaw dropping. “I-I— _What_?”

She puts a hand on his knee, either as comfort or to keep him from running she’s not entirely sure herself. “Your apartment is crap anyway,” she tells him. “How many times have you done your laundry here? And a broken washing machine in your basement is the least of your problems.”

“Second,” Eddie continues and instead of saying what he probably wants to say he just holds out the box. “This is for you.”

His hands shake ever-so-slightly as he takes the box. Barry stares at it for a long second before swallowing and opening it slowly. His breath catches at the sight of the key. “I don’t…I, uh…”

“It’s a key,” Iris says softly, obviously. “An invitation to come over whenever you want, whether we’re home or not. Our bed is your bed. You don’t have to move in, necessarily, but that would probably be easier.” She adds a little teasing into her tone for that last part, a little scared that if she makes it too heavy he’ll run.

Barry swallows again. “You—.” Iris feels a small surge of panic at the sight of Barry not only speechless, but looking like he’s about to cry. No, no. This is suppose to be a _good_ and _happy_ moment, not a chance for a setback.

            Eddie reaches out and takes the box from him before clasping his hands over Barry’s and turning sideways with a gentle and serious look on his face. “What’s wrong?”

            “…Why?”

            Of all the things Barry could’ve said, all the questions or protests she imagined him thinking of and all the rebuttals and counterarguments she thought of in reply—why had not been one of those things.

            She looks over Barry’s bowed head to meet the wide-eyed look of confusion that Eddie has on his face. They’ve talked about this, and she knows he wasn’t expecting ‘why.’

            “What what?” Eddie ventures to ask.

            Barry shifts like he wants to run, but Iris’ hand on his knee and Eddie’s hands around his own keep him from leaping off the couch. “Why are you guys doing this? You don’t want me around.”

            Iris gasps. “ _Oh, Barry_.” She moves her hand and and climbs to her knees to wrap her arms around his shoulders, pressing her cheek to the top of his head. “You think we’re doing all of this because we don’t want you in our lives? You’ve got toothbrush in the bathroom, a drawer to yourself, two boxes of those gross protein bars in the cabinet, and now you’ve got a key to the apartment and an open invitation to use our bed.”

            She can feel him shrug. “You want me around, but you don’t want me around.” Okay, confusing much? He breathes deep and presses his fingers to his eyes. “Iris, you’re already suspicious of me, of my life that I don’t tell you. You both know I have secrets I won’t— _can’t_ tell you and, you know what? They’re _dangerous_ secrets. I’ve already lost someone close within the secrets we both keep, I’ve lost countless others in the same secret. This…this is just too much.”

            Iris closes her eyes at the pain she hears. Oliver, Oliver Queen is definitely being referenced. Oh, Barry. There’s so much more—so, _so_ much more.

            “Overwhelming, got that,” Eddie says. “But I’m a detective and Iris is Iris—you can’t get more badass than that.” That coaxes a smile from Barry. “Both of have have _years_ self-defense training. She’s punched out a metahuman before. I get you want to protect us, I do. But we like you, _a lot_. This isn’t some random thing that popped up and escalated because your apartment flooded.” He squeezes his hands. “I get where you’re coming from, I do, but we’re more than capable of taking care of ourselves.”

            “Please, Barry,” Iris pleads. “Don’t run. Stay with us tonight; think about it if you have to. I was hoping you wouldn’t sleep on the couch tonight, but if that’s what makes you comfortable while you deliberate then we really don’t have a choice.”

            Barry pulls away from her, making her drop her arms from around him. “No, I’m fine. I just—I can think without being on the couch.” He turns around and touches her cheek, smiling. “Thank you. I know it’s all very dramatic, and I’m sorry about that. Apparently it’s one of my specialties.”

            And, oh no, she really wants to kiss him right now. She’s wanted to kiss him many times before, but now the urge is almost whelming.

            “I’ve met the people you hang out with,” Eddie says lightly, the tension easing in his shoulders. “It’s drama by osmosis.”

            “I hang out with you two, I hope you realize.”

            “Yes you do, and we love every minute of it.” Iris starts to stand, brushing the uncomfortable wrinkles out of her jeans. “Forget the Chinese, I’m exhausted. Let’s go to bed.”

            Eddie stands, but Barry hesitates.

            Iris holds out her hand, palm up, and Eddie copies her stance until they’re both in front of Barry with their hands out invitingly.

            “Come to bed, Barry.”

            He takes their hands and he does.

**19 February 2015**

Captain Singh grabs Rathaway and shoves him into the waiting arms of uniformed officers. Eddie ignores his looming presence in favour of cautiously approaching the injured metahuman still on the ground and still in pain. He stops a few feet away from him, unsure if his help would be welcomed.

            “He needs medical attention,” Singh says quietly, a lot closer than he was before.

            Eddie swallows thickly, this must be as bad of a sight to the captain as it is to him if he’s letting emotions cloud this voice. “A hospital isn’t going to be equipped to deal with a metahuman.”

            That’s when the Flash rolls over and shoves himself to his feet, stumbling to the side before righting himself. “Detective Thawne,” he says, voice absent of any reverberations. “Captain Singh.” He takes a step toward them again, stumbling until Eddie meets him halfway and grabs him by the shoulders. “I’m not healing,” he whispers wonderingly, child-like and oh-so-wrong.

            This close Eddie can see the burst capillaries in his eyes and the forming bruises on his exposed skin indicating vessels broken by sonic waves. There’s blood dripping from his nose and mouth, and if he could see the man’s ears Eddie would bet blood would be dripping from there too.

            His face isn’t blurred and Eddie is trying very hard to ignore the familiarity he sees behind the mask. Instead he focuses on the dread curling in his stomach at the thought the Flash is too injured and tired to even bother hiding.

            “Goddamnit,” Singh snaps out suddenly. “Thawne, get him into my car.”

            Eddie can only stare at him. “ _What?_ ”

            The older man whirls around, glaring murderously. “Have you gone deaf? Put. Him. In. My. Car. I’ll drive, you keep him from rolling around and injuring himself more.”

            Any more protests he would’ve had are swallowed when the Flash gives a full body shudder and Eddie is suddenly holding more of his weight than before. He grunts and lets the Flash fall against his chest, wrapping his arms around the speedster’s shoulders to keep him from sliding to the ground.

            “Flash?” No answer.

            Singh has the backdoor open, glaring at any uniformed officer looking their way. Eddie hoists the metahuman higher; sincerely hoping the man is still conscious. He may work out and be pretty fit, but the adrenaline rushing through him has not reached that peak where he can fireman carry the dead weight of a grown man.

            Eddie pulls away slightly to get a good look at the man. “Flash.” His eyes flutter. “Flash!”

            The metahuman jerks, surprised, and cries out in pain. Eddie scrambles to keep him from backing away and falling, possibly injuring himself even more. Though, even twitching a finger probably feels like agony to him anyway.

            “Can you walk?” Okay, dumb question. “Can you shuffle? We’re going to get you to STAR Labs. They’ll be able to help. Dr. Snow works there, remember? She’s helped you before hasn’t she?” Of course she has.

            “ _H-Hurts_.”

            “I know. I know it does.” His heart clenches at the pain he hears, but he pulls the Flash’s arm over his shoulder and wraps his arm around his waist anyway. “And, sorry, but this is going to hurt even more.”

Then he’s walking, pulling the metahuman along in a shuffling dance. The Flash sobs, his breath catching in his chest and rattling out his nose. God, it’s horrifying to hear a hero sound so broken, but he has no choice. It feels like forever until they make it to Singh’s car, but they do.

The expression on the captain’s face is the most tragic he’s ever seen.

*

            He wants to be surprised when Caitlin takes off the Flash’s cowl. He really does, there had been a deep hope that everything he thought was true since Snart and Rory was just his mind seeing things. But Caitlin takes off the hood and Barry’s there, his face damaged and bleeding and _Barry, Goddamnit._

            Dr. Wells rolls in at that moment, Captain Singh following him and look unsurprised at the sight of his CSI being unmasked as the vigilante. Eddie faintly wonders how long he’s known before he distracted by Barry crying out again as Cisco and Caitlin work to untangle him from his uniform top. The visible parts of his chest are an ugly blue and purple mix, there’s barely any part of him that isn’t a sickening colour.

            “Eddie, can you help?” Caitlin calls.

            He moves, but Singh grabs his shoulder first. “I’ll call Joe,” he says when Eddie looks back at him.

Shit. How could he forget about Joe? Joe, who is in Starling to do a little more digging about Barry’s mom, Joe whose son is currently seizing in the cortex of STAR Labs as his body works against the damage.

Eddie rushes over, grabbing Barry’s shoulders and holding him down. He hesitates after the fact, realising that holding someone down while they were seizing usually isn’t the best idea.

“Yes, Eddie, stay there,” Caitlin orders. “Cisco, grab his legs. He’s going to hurt himself even more. It’ll end in a couple of seconds.” Her expression is calm, but there’s muted panic in her eyes and her cheeks are flushed bright in emotion.

Barry, boarding on the edge of consciousness and oblivion, howls in pain, tears streaking down his cheeks and blood bubbling from his lips. It seems like hours than seconds before his whole body collapses, his limbs relaxing and his head rolling to the side, eyes half lidded and unseeing.

Eddie releases him like he’s been burned, completely unsure what he’s supposed to do. He knows basic first aid, cop training and all, but taking care of a metahuman ravaged by sonic waves? That’s beyond him.

“He’s not dying,” Caitlin says. “He’s going to be okay. I need to get a few x-rays in and MRIs, but he’ll be okay.”

He swallows, staring down at Barry’s bruised face. “Why x-rays?” His voice sounds hoarse to his own ears; he can’t imagine what it sounds like to the people in this room—the people who have seen Barry in every state of health and un-health. His stomach twists.

It’s Cisco who answers with: “Hartley’s sonic waves were powerful enough to not only do soft tissue damage, but damage tiny bones.” He holds up a hand. “Like the ones in his hands and feet. She wants to check to see how bad it is and to make sure there aren’t any hairline fractures in the thicker bones.” He sounds somber, serious, a side to Cisco he’s never seen before, not even during Snart and Rory’s rampage.

            “We’ll be right back, Eddie,” Caitlin promises, and, with Cisco’s help, they wheel Barry into the other room.

            Barry is still staring unseeing at nothing; the blank look in his eyes is disconcerting. He can’t tell if he’s out or not.

            “Detective Thawne,” Wells says quietly behind him. Eddie turns around and looks down at the older man in the wheelchair. “I trust this information you’ve learned today will not leave this room?”

            He forces a small laugh, it catches halfway in his throat. “Knowing Iris, I can’t really promise that, Dr. Wells.” He runs a shaky hand through his hair and adjusts his belt. “Once Barry wakes up and realises I know, he’s going to want to tell Iris. I don’t blame him.”

            Wells frowns, adjusting his glasses. “Detective—.”

            “Joe is on his way back to Central,” Singh says from the doorway. “I have my job to do back at the station.” He levels Eddie with a look. “Your absence will be explained by your presence here. Other than the fact you are keeping tabs on the Flash, nothing else will be known. I don’t have to tell you how important it is you keep the fact Barry Allen is the Flash from the rest of the department.”

            And he doesn’t, Eddie’s heard the snippets of conversations from some of the less inclined uniformed officers in the past couple of months since the Flash has become more well known. The comments he’s heard about Barry too…the combination reveal would not be nice and Eddie plans to do everything in his power to keep him safe.

            “Yes, sir.”

            Wells does not look happy at the acknowledgement, that Eddie sidelined his question in favour of his captain’s despite the fact they were about the same thing. Eddie can’t help the nagging feeling at the back of his mind that Harrison Wells is not to be trusted, no matter how charismatic and intelligent the man is.

            Singh nods sharply and turns heel to head to the elevator, bringing his mobile to his ear. Caitlin and Cisco come in, Barry’s out of his suit and is wearing a pair of loose sweatpants. The blood is cleaned off and his hands are splinted and bandaged.

            “His hands?”

            She shakes her head. “Small hairline fractures. He tried reaching for the gloves to turn them off before it got too much. Luckily Dr. Wells sent out a counter signal before his hands shattered.” She flashes a smile toward her boss before sobering. “Luckily,” she adds, voice softer, “before his lungs shredded. He came dangerously close.” Eddie swallows thickly. “He should be completely healed, if only a little sore, by tomorrow night. Until then, we’ve got IVs going and if he wakes up, he shouldn’t move.”

            Cisco arranges a blanket over Barry’s legs and puts a folded one in a plastic chair. “For cushioning,” he explains with a smile. “There’s more in the closet.” He points to a little door he hadn’t noticed.

            It feels like someone’s knocked his knees from under him when he sits down in the chair, staring at Barry’s face. His eyes are closed completely down and he could almost believe he’s asleep if it weren’t for the injuries.

            “He’s going to be okay, Eddie,” Caitlin says again, quietly.

            Eddie ignores her, pressing his lips together and keeping his eyes on Barry’s lax face. He’s still debating if grabbing Barry’s hand, even if it is lightly and barely touching, and wrapping his hand around the metahuman’s wrist to feel his pulse is inappropriate or not.

            Screw it. He reaches out, curling his fingers around Barry’s wrist and feeling the steady fast beat of his heart. He almost wants to cry in relief. The heart monitor is telling him, yes, Barry is alive, but it’s not enough. It’s not enough to get the sight of his bloodied face and damaged skin out of his mind, or the way Caitlin’s face just screamed _this is bad_ without ever uttering a word to match.

            Behind him Caitlin ushers Cisco out of the room. It’s another minute or two before he hears the telltale signs of Dr. Wells’ wheelchair whirling as he leaves after them. He takes a deep breath, his head bowing.

            “Goddamnit, Barry,” he whispers.

            His phone ringing startles him out of his thoughts. He jumps before digging it out of his pocket, wincing when he sees Iris’ name. “Hey,” he tries to say as casually as possible.

            “Is he okay?” she demands.

            “…what?”

            “I know,” she says, rushed and hysterical, “I know Barry’s the Flash. I’ve known since January. It wasn’t my place to tell. But right now I’ve got a news broadcast showing the Flash _dying._ So: Is. He. Okay?”

            He’s quiet for a long moment before he sighs. “No,” he answers truthfully. He receives a sob in response. “But Caitlin says he will be. Apparently he heals faster than normal, but it’ll still take him awhile. She predicts he’s be good as new by tomorrow night.”

            “I’m coming over,” she says, there’s the sound of shuffling and fabric. “Don’t try to stop me.”

            “Wouldn’t think of it,” he tells her with a faint smile.

            The sound of a car door slamming. “Damn straight.”

            It’s awkward, to sit here alone with an unconscious Barry and the heart monitor beating too fast. He never truly visited Barry during his coma, he stopped by to pick Iris up, but he never lingered with him alone. Eddie likes to think he feel in love with Barry during his coma, through the stories Iris told him over coffee, then lunch, then dinners, then all of it.

He should’ve been jealous—here is he, right in from of an intelligent, gorgeous woman who seems to like him, but all she can talk about is her best friend who may never wake up. Instead, though, he stared dreamingly at her and liked to pretend Barry was sitting there with them, trying to cover Iris’ mouth when ever she tried to tell a particularly embarrassing story and she would just fight him off, laughing and continuing on.

He fell hard for a man he barely knew and he fell hard for Iris West. What is his life?

The elevator dings and Iris walks in, bundled up in a coat and a scarf, tears tracks staining her cheeks. She gasps audibly when she catches sight of Barry and her steps quicken until she’s standing at his side and is just staring down at him, eyes wide.

“What happened?” she whispers.

“Hartley Rathaway,” Eddie answers. “He’s a former employee of STAR Labs, he’s the whistle blower for the possible Particle Accelerator malfunction. Wells fired him on the spot. He developed technology to create sonic sounds. He attacked Wells at his house, then his father’s company, then the Flash—Barry.” He’s probably missing a few details.

She sheds her coat and drops it to the floor, clumping it together with her purse and slides it all under the bed. “He’s never been very subtle,” she says conversationally, forcibly light, as she grabs a wheeled chair from in front of the monitors. “Whenever he tried to keep a major secret from me, I could always figure out he was keeping a secret.” She sits down, her knees brushing Eddie’s and her elbow on the bed.

He reaches out and takes her hand, rubbing a thumb over her knuckles in comfort. “My first clue was that Captain Cold and Heatwave abducted Caitlin,” he tells her. “She was part of the Particle Accelerator, she was Barry’s doctor, and she became his friend. There were no indications she knew the Flash at all, so why would they take her to lure her out? Everything just…fell into place after that.”

“Almost the same,” she says, smiling faintly. “He disappeared a lot. One second he’s there, the next he’s gone, then the next he’s back. At one point I just started to pretend I never saw it, but I usually did. It was the spree killer case you guys had early January that clue me in. Do you remember?”

Eddie nods. A guy killed four people over the course of two days and was going for a fifth before the Flash delivered him to the steps of the Central City PD with a signed confession, both written and taped. He hadn’t been entirely sure how the Flash ended up on the same case as them, but he guesses Barry is the answer to that.

“I was in his lab when he figured it out,” she says. “He barely said good bye before he was gone. He probably thinks he made it around the corner before he ran, but he wasn’t.”

            Eddie has to laugh at that. Only Barry.

Just then, the heart rate monitor spikes and Barry rolls off the bed, ending up in the corner in the blink of an eye. His shoulders are heaving as he struggles to catch a breath and his eyes are wild and unseeing, darting from one side of the room to the other without ever landing on Iris and Eddie.

            Eddie is the first to his feet, but Iris is the one that approaches him, hands out and expression soft as if Barry is an injured wild animal.

            Barry coughs, red speckling his lips, and his knees shake. When they give out half a second later Iris is there to ease him to the floor, cradling him carefully. She runs her fingers through his hair, his face pressed against the juncture of her neck.

            “Shh,” she murmurs. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

            “Hurts,” he moans. “Iris, it _hurts.”_

“I know,” she says. “I know it does. Running around like you just did, though, is not going to help.” She pulls away a bit and Barry’s face is in view, his eyes glazed over in pain and tears streaming down his face. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”

            Eddie helps her shuffle Barry to the bed, trying his best to ignore every whimper of pain. They lay him out, Iris arranging the blankets back over his legs. Eddie tries to see if he can figure out the IV, but opts to just put pressure on the now gaping wound ripping it out has left behind. They always make ripping out the IV in movies dramatic and painless, but in real life it’s completely different and gorey.

            He smiles as brightly as he can at Barry. “Looks like the cat’s out of the bag, huh?”

            Barry winces. “Guess so,” he whispers. “I’m sorry for never telling you, Iris.”

            She presses light fingers to his arm. “I’m sure Dad told you to keep it from me. The man has an overprotective streak a mile and a half wide. I’m not happy you agreed, and I’m not happy you’ve been putting yourself in danger. But…” She leans in closer. “You’re a _hero_ , Barry.”

            He grins. “I am, aren’t I?”

            Eddie runs a hand through Barry’s hair. “I’m going to call Caitlin in to put this IV back in, she’ll probably have to put it in your other arm.” He adds a glare for extra measure. “The heavy discussion can wait until you’re healed more.”

            Barry gives him a tired smile and a mumbled “thank you.” His eyes flutter as Eddie gets up to go find Caitlin and Iris brushes a kiss on his slowly healing forehead. “I’m sorry for lying,” he says soft before it’s too late.

            “You’re forgiven.”


	4. March

**1 March 2015**

It takes almost a whole week for both Barry to heal completely and for everything to get settled concerning Hartley Rathaway. Joe has beaten himself up everyday since Barry’s been hurt, unable to help but think that if he’d just held off going to Starling for another week the whole situations wouldn’t have been so bad.

            He sits further back in his seat, taking a sip of his beer and watching the three idiots curled around each other on the couch. Barry still looks worn down, but Joe can’t blame him considering only the other day they captured the metahuman Caitlin named Peek-a-Boo—Lashawna Beaz with the powers to teleport and is now serving six months in Iron Heights and community service—and Barry _just_ managed to stop himself from getting shot in the back of the neck. It still made significant contact so his body had to heal.

            Joe has to admit he never through they would end up like this. He knows the three of them aren’t technically dating, but the ‘yet’ is there. Considering all of the revelations recently and that Barry let his lease on his apartment run to an end without even trying to renew it means more changes are going to happen soon.

            And he couldn’t be happier. There had always been the thought of Iris and Barry being together once Barry swallowed his fears, but having a third person in the mix? Unthought-of, yet Eddie fits in perfectly with his—what does Cisco call it?—adorkable-ness.

            “Serious conversation time,” he says, disturbing the peace. Eddie lifts his head to make eye contact with him while Barry lets his head drop, his eyes closing.

            “Like, who knows Barry’s the Flash?” Iris asks. She would’ve made a fantastic cop and an even better detective, always knowing which ones are the important questions and which aren’t. “STAR Labs, obviously. The three of us. Does anyone else know?”

            “Hal Jordan,” Barry mumbles to the ceiling. “Oliver Queen. Felicity Smoak. John Diggle. Roy Harper. Lyla Michaels. Henry Allen.”

            “Jesus Christ,” Joe says, borderline spluttering. “Don’t you know how to keep a secret? That’s over a dozen people who know who you are.”

            “And Captain Singh.”

            “ _What?_ ” He tones down his shout when Barry flinches ever so slightly. His boy has been a little more flighty and fidgety lately—and while he can’t really blame him, he hates the swell of guilt that rises whenever any of them toe the line of comfortable. “Barry,” he continues a little softer. “How the hell does Singh know?”

            He shrugs. “I’m not entirely sure. I don’t even know how long he’s known. He told me the day before New Years and that he won’t tell anyone but I should be careful.” He glances up at Eddie. “Probably the reason he didn’t argue too much when you when from Anti-Flash to Anti-Metahuman.”

            Joe eyes Eddie when he realises the man doesn’t look too surprised to hear the last name reveal. “How long have you known Singh knows?”

            “Since Rathaway, so not very long,” he admits. “Singh helped me get him to STAR Labs and he didn’t even flinch when they took off his mask.”

His arm is propped on the back of the couch and he’s brushing his fingers through Barry’s hair like he’s a cat. Hell, Barry is even leaning into the touch like a damn cat, eyes half-lidded and content. His and Iris’s hands are tangled together, and he’s fiddling with her fingers absently as they talk.

They’re so damn familiar and comfortable that Joe is literally unable to describe the happiness lodged in his chest. And the worry that with metahumans and even regular cases with the CCPD and Iris’ job with the CCPN that it’ll all wear them down until there’s nothing but shells of people. He’s seen it all before and despite the fact he kept Iris from becoming a cop to keep her safe physically, mentally, and emotionally, his ability to keep any of the important people in his lives safe is slowly dwindling.

“Can they be trusted?”

“Yes,” Barry says firmly without hesitance.

Iris looks less confident. “I don’t know half the names you listened. Felicity I trust. Oliver I don’t. You never told us whether you two talked or not.”

Barry stares resolutely at his socks, wiggling his toes to make them more interesting. “We didn’t, sort of,” he says slowly. “He had to go back to Starling almost immediately, but I told him that I’d still be on call to help with anything happening.”

She sucks her teeth disapprovingly. “Procrastinator.”

“Hey, I’m fast; I can afford it,” he protests. A weak defense if anything, and by the look on his face he’s completely aware of it. Joe did not raise idiots.

“Can we back track to the fact that Oliver Queen is the Arrow?” Eddie says. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

Barry’s expression turns smug. “I had a short list of people who I thought could be the Arrow. Oliver was on it. And by short I mean there was only one person on it.” Iris snorts and he pinches the top of her hand lightly. “And he’s going to kill me when he finds out you know. He’s protective of his identity to the point of terrifying.”

“He owes you. I bet you he won’t say a word about it when he finds out,” Eddie tells him, just on this side of smug.

“Barry,” Joes says quietly, firmly. “You need to be more careful about this.”

            He sighs and untangles himself from Iris and Eddie, leaning over to cradle his hand his his hands. “I know,” he says. “Trust me, I know. It’s not like I do it on purpose. Things just happen.” He rubs his eyes. “The most important people in my life know, at this point there’s no one else to keep a secret from. Except, you know, everyone else.”

            Joe knows Barry hates keeping secrets, that’s probably the reason why he hadn’t been so vigilant about making sure people didn’t find out. Keeping this a secret, though, could possibly mean life or death. Caitlin has already been kidnapped once to get to the Flash, and even though Snart couldn’t have know who the Flash was it’s a scary insight to what could happen if he had.

            Iris rubs his back before getting up. “I’m going to start on dinner.” She tugs on Eddie’s arm as she passes and he follows her.

            “Keep Eddie away from the blender!” Barry calls out teasingly.

            “That was _one_ time!”

            Joe raised an eyebrow at the brilliant smile Barry flashes him. “Do I want to know?”

            “No?” Barry throws his head back and laughs.

            He leans forward and gives him a serious look. He knows Barry doesn’t want to be having this conversation, but it’s one that needs to happen.

            “You’re mad at me,” Barry says softly. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag Iris into it.”

            “How long did she yell at you for?” Neither confirming nor denying his feelings on the matter.

            He sighs. “ _Hours._ At least she waited until I was healed.” He clasps his hands together and pressed them to his chin. “She’s still mad at me for running head first into danger, but she won’t stop me. Eddie…Eddie is quieter, but he’s a little angry at me for lying. But I think we’ll be okay. Lashawna was the first metahuman they got a front row seat to Barry Allen fighting and she wasn’t even the biggest problem—her boyfriend was.”

            Joe snorted humorlessly. No kidding. It’s a good thing his boy is fast. “You need to be one, more careful, and two, more watchful. Iris always likes getting herself into trouble for a good cause, but this will more than just trouble is she gets in the middle of any of your metahumans. This is life and death.”

            Barry frowns. “I’m not stupid, Joe. I know that. I will do everything in my power, but Iris is her own person. _You_ know that. If I can’t stop her then I won’t force her, but I _will_ be by her side all the way through. Both of us, Eddie and me. You have my word on that.”

            Joe can only store at him, speechless, until his young, innocent, determined expression gets too much and he has to look away, dragging a hand down his face to break the contact and leaning back.

            They sit there in silence, Joe turning his attention on the television that, up until this point, had been on mute, and Barry focuses on curling his toes over each other. It’s interrupted by Barry’s phone, shrill and loud and attention grabbing. He fumbles for it then answers with a “Yes, Captain?”

            Joe raises an eyebrow at that. Very, _very_ rarely does Captain Singh call Barry, that’s usually given to Joe as it’s well known around the prescient that Singh detests the forensic analyst. Which, of course, is a complete lie that too many people like to believe. But still, Singh calls Joe, or Eddie now as it is.

            “Is there a case?” Joe asks when Barry hangs up.

            He shakes his head. “No, he just had a question about one of the cold cases he’s been shoving in my direction. As if I don’t already have a crap ton of stuff to do.”

            “You do realise he does this because he _knows_ you’re beyond capable?”

            Barry gives him a dry, almost bitter, grin. “And I hope you realise that I don’t believe that.”

            Iris comes out of the kitchen and wraps her arms around Barry, presses her cheek against the back of his head. “Dinner’s almost ready. If you two could do the honors of setting the table?”

            “Cancel that,” Eddie says from behind them. “Singh just called us in. There’s been a kidnapping.”

 

**3 March 2015**

            He can’t feel his fingers. Hell, at this point he’s not even sure he _has_ fingers anymore. They’re frozen popsicles he use be able to move at one point…maybe…possibly, who knows. Eddie’s lips crack and bleed and freeze. There’s a chance he’s missing a body part and the only reason why he’s not dead yet is because the blood is frozen over.

            And the only way he can tell he isn’t dead is that his lips can still move, his eyes can still blink, and there’s a steady pattern of fog misting from his mouth every few seconds as he breathes.

            He moves a little and instantly regrets it as the frozen pain flares and spreads through his nerves like cold fire. The simple breaths turn to ragged panting; he lurches against a wall and moans. There’s a firework in the distance, making him flinch at the sudden noise breaking the silence.

            “Eddie!”

            He opens his eyes, faintly wondering when he’d closed them. That voice, it sounds so familiar. But his brain isn’t working, his thoughts move so slowly that he can’t keep track of them. There’s another firework, closer, louder.

            Then nothing.

            Something bangs against the metal door, rattling him and causing even more pain. He cries out and jerks away, falling against a crate and jostling his broken ribs.

            “Damn it! Where is Detective Thawne?”

            “B-Barry?” he croaks out.

            That’s Barry, that’s Barry using his Flash voice when he doesn’t want people who know Barry Allen to find out he’s the Flash.

            “Where is he?”

            Eddie struggles to his feet, stumbling and cracking a knee on the ground when his legs give a little. He puts both hands on the door when he’s finally steady, spreading his fingers out and pressing with his palms as if he could shove it open. He can’t, of course, it’s one of the first things he tried when he ended up in here.

            “In here,” he tries to shout, but it comes out week and a pathetic. He curls a hand to a fist and bangs it; trying for a simple three knock and gets a Lady Gaga song.

            The door rattles again, but this time it opens and Eddie’s falling forward into red clad arms. Barry moves with him, cradling him against his chest and pulling off his hood before touching Eddie’s face with the tips of his fingers.

            “I could kill you,” he says softly, tone fond. “Only you would get abducted during a kidnapping case and shoved into a freezer.”

            Eddie grins up at him, causing new cracks to form on his lips. “L-Learned from the b-best,” he whispers. God, he’s so tired. He’s cold, hurt, and safe now—that’s the important part, _safe—_ he could just close his eyes and let Barry take care of everything from here on out.

            “Oh no you don’t. You have to stay awake, Eddie.”

            He’s shifted around, arms going under his knees and around his shoulders. Barry heaves him up like he weighs nothing. Eddie smiles, eyes half-lidded, wondering if he got super-strength with the super-speed. A sudden thought occurs to him and he slaps a stiff hand to Barry’s chest, pushing it with waning energy.

            “W-What a-about the k-kids?” There’s too big of a pause for comfort and he slaps his chest again. “ _B-Barry._ The _k-kids_.”

            “They’re _fine_. I promise.” He starts walking instead of running toward the doors, Eddie’s legs swinging and he feels so off-kilter. “The CCPD picked them up three hours ago at the Blüdhaven Apartment Complex in Leawood. They’re _all_ fine. Now we’re just worried about you. Cisco tracked your cellphone here. I told Singh I’d deliver the two goons watching you to the station then run you to the hospital.” Barry glances down at him. “Can I take you to the hospital now?”

            Eddie dips his chin a little bit of a nod, now that he knows everyone is okay the rush of exhaustion overwhelms him. Barry hitches him a little higher, takes a deep breath, and starts running.

*

            Consciousness comes back to him slowly and painfully, but when he opens his eyes he’s greeted with the most beautiful sight in the world: Iris slouching in a chair, looking tired and her eyes are swollen, reading a book while eating string cheese and Barry is in another chair, his head nestled on his folded arms an he’s fast asleep on his bed.

            His fingers don’t want to bend and his hand feels like a club, clumsy and uncooperative, but he reaches out anyway and brushes bandaged fingers across Barry’s face. His eyelashes flutter and then gorgeous green eyes open and a brilliant smile appears.

            “Eddie!”

            Iris jerks in her chair, dropping her book and almost choking on the last of her cheese. “You’re awake. How do you feel?”

            “Awful,” he croaks out, wincing at how terrible he sounds.

            She chuckles. “I bet.” Soft hands are brushing back stray hair and she kisses his forehead. “You had me so worried,” she whispers.

            He curled his hand around hers to the best of his ability, ignoring the throbbing pain. “I’m sorry. It was impulsive.”

            Eddie is mostly aware of what happened before he ended up in an industrial freezer. He and Joe got separated canvasing Leawood (they had been _so_ close) and he’d ended up at Blüdhaven Apartments (even closer) before he got jumped. Trafficking, children trafficking. That is literally the only explanation for why five kids went missing in three days; the kidnapping they were called in on, on the first had been a lucky hit.

            “Yeah, you pulled a Barry,” she teases.

            They look to Barry, ready for mock outrage, but he’s silent, eyes rimmed red. Eddie lets go of Iris to go for his hand instead, his fingers getting looser by the second. Barry twists so their fingers are tangled together, his thumb rubbing his knuckles soothingly.

            “Barry,” Eddie says quietly.

            “I’m sorry I couldn’t find you sooner,” he says. “I thought—.” He closes his eyes and bites his bottom lip. He takes his hand back and stands, leaning over and frames Eddie’s face with both hands. “I thought I lost you,” his murmurs. His eyes drift down to Eddie’s lips then back to his eyes. He probably looks so gross right now, but Barry doesn’t seem to care. “Can I kiss you? Please?”

            “ _Yes._ ”

            He’s careful, mindful of the tender splits in his skin, and his lips are so soft. Eddie just _melts_ against him, a shiver crawling up his spine. He reaches up and grabs on his of his wrists, holding him tight and keeping him there.

            Barry pulls away slowly, breathing in deeply. His eyes flutter open and he smiles. “Can I do it again?”

            “Please.” Eddie really hopes he doesn’t whimper. This is right up there with kissing Iris and this proves that this is it, this is what is suppose to happen.

  Iris pulls Barry away, much to Eddie's dismay. But everything looks up with she grabs his shirt and pulls him into a kiss, standing on her toes to reach Barry better. Eddie smiles dreamily at the sight of them.

The three of them, together. No matter what.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneak Peeks:
> 
> **part II:** _Not Every Love Burns_
>
>> He’s halfway down the stairs when Steve comes rushing out of the lab, Barry’s coffee in hand. Barry smiles and thanks him as he takes if before heading to Eddie’s desk to give him a quick kiss and then out of the building. There’s still two hours left of Eddie’s shift and Iris already had today off, so they all agreed to meet at Jitters at seven-ish then go off on a real date. Until then, though, Barry has some work to do and he’s going to use those two hours to do it.
>> 
>> Even better, he has the time to take a nice walk and still have time to do something, for once not behind schedule with a combination of him actually focusing on things and Steve being early of the first time in a long time.
>> 
>> The first drink of his coffee has him recoiling, but he chalks the bad taste up to the fact that it’s three hours old, warm, and almost gone. In a desperate need for caffeine that probably doesn’t affect him anymore (much to his disappointment) he downs the last one-third of it in one go.
>> 
>> This is a mistake.
>> 
>> A few more blocks and his stomach starts rolling, his teeth watering and he swallows the urge to puke. He presses his fingers to his mouth, trying to make it look casual, but as soon as the world starts spinning he abandons causal in favour of staggering into a side street to retch, but nothing comes up. One knee hits the ground and he’s forced to lean against the brick wall.
>> 
>> “Hey. You okay, man?”
>> 
>> Barry looks up, his vision fuzzy around the edges and the face above him indistinct. He opens him mouth to say something—anything, his brain a mass jumble of increasing pain, confusion, and fear—but all that comes out is a groan.
>> 
>> “Definitely not okay.” Hands grip under his arms and haul him up with surprising strength until he’s standing somewhat steadily. Though, using a stranger as a crutch probably doesn’t count as steady.
> 
> **part iii:** _Let's Build Skyscrapers_
>
>> “Eobard Malcolm Thawne.”
>> 
>> Terror like he’s never felt before grabs him and holds him tight. He can’t move despite the fact the man inches towards him at a snail’s pace in a wheelchair. Harrison Wells can go faster than that, he knows this, but he holds back.
>> 
>> “You know, this isn’t what I expected,” Wells says conversationally, a stark contrast to the malicious way he said Eddie’s full (and embarrassing) name earlier. “You’re just so friendly and cuddly. You’re like an entirely new person compared to when I knew you.”
>> 
>> Eddie coughs to clear his throat. “You knew me? What?”
>> 
>> Harrison glances up thoughtfully. “Well, I can’t necessarily say I will know you. As much as I’d wanted to keep the timeline the same, I haven’t. Oh, yes, a lot of the important things have stayed, but the little things have changed. Like you, for instance. Or not so little actually” He chuckles at the confused expression on Eddie’s face. “’Guilty or not guilty? Everyone is guilty. Death is never the end. And lightning always strikes twice.’ You said that to me once.”
>> 
>> “Who _are_ you?”
>> 
>> He smirks, deranged and unexpected. “We’ve never been properly introduced. Well, I haven’t properly introduced myself to anyone before. Not in this timeline. I am Eobard Thawne.”
>> 
>> Eddie chokes on air, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. "You-." 
>> 
>> “I was named after you. We’re…distant relatives. Very distant. Think centuries.” Harrison—Eddie can’t think of him in any other way—locks his wheelchair and stands, closing the distance between them quickly. “But time travel is fickle. Of course.”
> 
> **part iv:**  
>  _The Ant and the Grasshopper_
>
>>   
>  (loneliness + [*****] + [*****]+ despair + self-worth)  
> ÷ [*****]  
> ÷ ([*****] ÷ misunderstanding)  
> × (guilt × shame)  
> × (failure × [*****])  
> n=y where y=hope and n=folly,  
> [*****]=[*****], life=death, [*****]=[*****]


End file.
